There’s waves of emotion that bubble through the cracks, and the connections attached are following.
There’s the comments and subtleties that make me think I’m silly. The patterns, the choice of words, the revelations through my silence.
The invites fall short. Being in a room of people is hard while still feeling alone, still not knowing when’s the right time to add to conversation.
“Are you ok? Are you lying to me about being ok?”
Yes and yes.
It’s ok to be on until it’s not, and there’s not a shoulder I’d like to cry on.
The rush of reality hits and the tiniest tear begins to leak.
